


Bourbon and Barbecue

by merle_p



Category: Walker (TV 2021)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Casual Sex, Cunnilingus, Drunk Sex, Episode: s0103 Bobble Head, Established Trey Barnett/Micki Ramirez, Multi, Snark, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:49:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29643963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merle_p/pseuds/merle_p
Summary: Micki can think of at least ten reasons off the top of her head why this, right here, is a terrible idea.In fact, she is pretty sure that when Captain James gives his speech about the importance of following regulations, this is exactly the kind of thing he is asking them very much not to do.
Relationships: Trey Barnett/Micki Ramirez/Cordell Walker
Comments: 8
Kudos: 24





	Bourbon and Barbecue

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after S01E03 "Bobble Head."

Micki can think of at least ten reasons off the top of her head why this, right here, is a terrible idea. 

In fact, she is pretty sure that when Captain James gives his speech about the importance of following regulations, this is exactly the kind of thing he is asking them very much not to do.

But bourbon and barbecue have always been a dangerous combination for her in that they tend to put her with reliable predictability in a good, a carefree mood. And, well. She is grateful to Walker for having her back on this case, and Walker is grateful to Trey for spilling the beans on Micki's culinary preferences, and Trey is grateful to Walker for saving Micki's life, in short, everyone is so very grateful, and that seems to call for another drink in a more private environment.

Which is how they end up at Micki’s place with a net of limes and a bottle of tequila, because yes, she does drink tequila when the situation calls for it, and if there was ever a situation that called for tequila, it’s watching her partner and her … goddamn, her _partner_ gleefully bond over the things that make Micki tick.

And inevitably, four (or maybe five?) shots in, there is that moment when Walker leans forward, elbows on his knees, with that wide, daring smile and asks: “So aside from bourbon and green tea, what else does she like?”

To be fair, for all that he’s a nosy bastard, Walker is probably just hoping for intel on Micki’s favorite boyband or preferred sportswear store. But Trey, who loves to talk about Micki when he’s stone-cold sober but gets downright _chatty_ when he’s drunk, looks at him with a suggestive little smirk and says, in a tone that is dripping with innuendo:

“Oh, there’s a lot of things Micki likes.”

And Micki may keep a running list of Walker’s most annoying traits in her head, but there’s no question that he’s almost spookily perceptive, and so Micki already has an inkling where this is going when she sees his eyebrows climb up into his forehead in response to Trey’s comment, a little surprised and very intrigued.

“Do tell,” he says, and he does this thing where his voice drops by what feels like an entire octave, suddenly sounds like wild honey and bonfire smoke, and it takes a bit of effort to pretend that his tone has absolutely no effect on her. “I sense a story there.”

“Uh-oh.” Micki shakes her index finger at Trey. “You are not going to tell him about our sex life,” she says sternly, because they are all drunk and they are all grown-ups and there is no point in pretending that they don’t all know what Trey’s talking about.

Trey ducks his head, appropriately chastised but also with a glint of mischief in his eyes, and she is fully prepared to smother Trey with a cushion to stop him from talking if it comes to that. But eventually the water she’s been drinking along with the liquor to forestall a hangover is taking its toll, and when she comes back from the bathroom, only five, maybe ten minutes later, she finds Trey and Walker looking at each other intently across the coffee table. She clears her throat, causing them to glance up at her in unison, and she only has to take one look at their matching guilty-not-guilty expressions to know that the damage has been done.

“Threesomes, Floriana?” Walker drawls, and yeah, okay, she is going to kill Trey slowly and painfully later tonight. “How very scandalous.”

And the thing is, the part of her brain that isn’t yet marinated in bourbon and tequila is mortified, wants the ground to open up underneath her feet and swallow her – but a different part of her mind, the one that’s stealthily been trying to figure out her new work partner without letting on, can’t help but notice that despite what Walker is saying, he does not _sound_ very scandalized.

Appreciative, more like. Kind of impressed.

“You don’t seem very shocked,” she says slowly, because she probably should say _something_ , and he shrugs and gives her a lopsided grin.

“I was a Marine,” he says. “I’m a cop. You really think there’s anything people get up to in the bedroom that I haven’t heard stories about before?”

And sure, as far as explanations go, it’s a pretty convincing one. Micki is ex-military, she’s law enforcement, she knows all about how those guys can get when they start comparing notes, and Walker looks relaxed and casual enough that she can almost buy the implication that listening to the Private News Network is all he’s talking about.

Except.

Except then she remembers showing up at the Side Step and finding Walker bent over that card game with Geri and Hoyt, remembers how cagey Walker had acted with Rawlins in town, how Captain James had been so strangely resigned to it all, and suddenly she is wondering if maybe there’s more to Cordell Bauregard Walker than first meets the eye after all.

So she crosses her arms and raises her brows and makes a move to call his bluff.

“Just stories, huh,” she says skeptically, and he smiles at her, slow as molasses, almost like he’s pleased and a little proud she’s paying attention to his cues:

“Now I didn’t say _that_.”

And yes, this is definitely the point where she should be putting a stop to all this. Should announce that she’s tired, send Walker home, tell him to sleep it off and hope that tomorrow he won’t remember any of this.

But if there’s two things Micki has always liked a little too much in combination, aside from bourbon and barbecue, it’s an interesting challenge and a handsome man. And if Captain James, or God, or Lady Libertad should ever put her on the stand, she is perfectly willing to blame regulations – or specifically, uniform pants that leave absolutely fucking nothing to the imagination – for how not even half an hour later, she finds herself on her back on the bed, in nothing but a sports bra and one sock, looking down at Walker’s head between her legs.

Walker’s hands are large and warm on the insides of her thighs, and she can feel his exhales against her skin, and she props herself up on her elbows to watch him tilt his head up towards Trey and ask, expectantly: “So, you going to tell me what she likes?”

Trey smiles widely. “I hope you are taking notes,” he warns, and this is how Micki discovers that (a) Walker is a pretty fast learner when he wants to be, and that (b) miraculously, he is actually quite good at following instructions if only he feels inspired sufficiently.

He certainly seems plenty inspired right now. His fingers inside her are a little too careful at first but he quickly gets the message when she shoves her pussy impatiently down against his hand, and he’s sucking her clit with a dedication that tells her he’s actually enjoying what he’s doing, and fuck if that isn’t a major turn-on.

And then she makes the mistake of looking up at her boyfriend and has to take a slow breath to compose herself, because he is busy petting Walker’s back like the guy is a fucking horse, and with a mix of trepidation and aroused fascination she watches his fingers reach lower and lower with every stroke.

It’s a nice view, a fucking _great_ view, and she lets herself enjoy it even as she can’t help but wonder if Trey’s next move is going to put an abrupt end to this whole thing. But apparently Trey is onto something because when his hand eventually disappears from her line of sight down the curve of Walker’s ass, the man doesn’t even as much as flinch, and hey, here’s another item to put on her list of times Walker has actually managed to take her by surprise.

Trey, too, seems pleased with Walker’s attitude, if the way he is practically _cooing_ at him is any indication.

“You are doing so good, babe,” he says while he’s fumbling with the lube (and wasn’t that still hidden in the drawer last time she checked?), “you are taking care of her so well,” and he definitely has two fingers in Walker’s ass now, _Jesus fucking Christ_ , “yeah, just like that, babe, uh-huh,” and Walker just takes it, fingers and pet names and all, just hums against her pussy and slides his tongue into her with renewed enthusiasm, and she finally gives up on trying to resist the urge to run her fingers through his hair while he eats her out.

Across the endless plane of Walker’s back, Trey is looking at her, knowing and fond. “Isn’t he doing good, baby?” he asks, and Micki rolls her eyes at him best as she can with the state she’s in.

“Hmyeah,” she makes, proud at how steady she manages to sound despite the aching-hot pleasure building up in her groin. “Not bad so far, I think I may need more data for my final report,” and she swears she can feel Walker’s huff of silent laughter tickling her clit.

“Well,” Trey says thoughtfully, and yeah, only Trey could look like he’s seriously pondering an important question while flexing his marvelous sculpted bicep as he’s fingering another guy.

“I think he should probably fuck you next.” He bends his knees a little, glances downward to where Micki imagines Walker’s cock dragging heavy and full against the crease of his thigh, leaking precome onto the sheets.

“He’s big, baby,” Trey says when he looks back up at her, a gleam in his eye. “Think you can take it all?”

She thinks about it, lets herself picture it in her mind – Walker on his back, her kneeling over him, teasing her own nipples while riding his cock, and Trey straddling his face, jacking himself slowly, getting off on the sensation of Walker’s tongue on his balls – and fuck, apparently something about that image does it for her, because before she knows it, she is coming hard around Walker’s fingers, gushing all over his face.

It’s sudden enough that she can actually hear him make a surprised little sound against her skin, but to his credit, he keeps at it until she tangles her fingers in his hair to pull him off her oversensitive clit. He blinks up at her, a little dazed, and _Sweet Jesus_ but his entire face is _wet_. Then:

“Hi,” he says, almost cheerfully, as if he just walked into the room and is genuinely happy to see her face. It’s so goddamn dorky that she can’t quite stop the laughter bubbling up in her chest, and okay, yes, she’s gotta give him credit for successfully navigating them past the most dangerous moment of potential awkwardness.

She gives his head an affectionate pat, because she’s not someone not to acknowledge a job well done, and then glances up at Trey, who is looking at her with the smuggest of expressions, grinning like he just won the lottery, and …

yeah, she knows that particular expression well enough to understand that she and Walker totally got played tonight, but luckily, they have already figured out that as a team, improvisation is their strength.


End file.
